


Nibble

by sabinelagrande



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Budding Sadism, Co-Topping, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Humiliation, Inexperienced Top, M/M, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sadism, Scratching, Spitroasting, and by that I mean physical love, give Rhod the love he deserves, no infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Things go downhill for Rhod pretty quickly, but maybe Greg can help.
Relationships: Greg Davies & Rhod Gilbert, Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Rhod Gilbert/Alex Horne, Rhod Gilbert/Alex Horne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Nibble

It starts, completely innocuously on Rhod's part, with a perfectly ordinary phone call.

"Thought I'd come round later," he says to Greg on the phone, which they'd planned a week prior and he strongly suspected would skip Greg's mind.

"You can come over, but I've got Alex with me tonight," Greg says.

"Yeah?" Rhod says, because he doesn't understand why Alex being over at Greg's is interesting or why Greg is saying it like that.

"You're not following me," Greg says.

"Nah," Rhod says.

"I've got little Alex Horne with me, and he'll do as he's told," Greg sneers, and Rhod's eyebrows go straight up. "But don't let that stop you. Just be prepared."

Rhod is way too fucking curious not to go, and he finds Greg with his feet kicked up on Alex's back. Alex doesn't look uncomfortable, really, even though he's stuck there in just his pants. He has this glassy-eyed look, hazy, but he looks content, in the impassive way he does when he's in character.

"Alright, Greg?" Rhod says, sitting down across from the two of them, because he isn't sure what to do other than pretend this is completely normal.

"Evening," Greg says. He gets his leg under Alex and kicks him in the chest. "Say hello to Rhod, boy."

"Hello, Rhod," Alex says obediently.

"No points for style," Greg says. "Get you anything?" he asks Rhod.

 _A fucking explanation,_ Rhod doesn't say. "What're you having?"

Greg pushes Alex with his foot so hard he falls. Alex gets up immediately, going to the table by the wall and pouring whisky into a glass. He presents it to Rhod before going to his knees at Greg's feet.

Rhod just sips his whisky for a long moment. There is complete silence.

"Jesus Christ, Rhodri," Greg says with a laugh. "Say something before you explode."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Rhod shouts.

Greg laughs so hard he has to catch his breath, but as it turns out, nothing about it is a joke.

So the situation seems to be this: everyone involved with everyone else has reached an arrangement, or a series of arrangements, and now and again, on a weekend or an evening, Alex is just at Greg's house, and Greg is _awful_.

He really does make Alex call him Taskmaster, which really makes Rhod wonder if Alex picked the name first because it was his kink, or if he hooked up with Greg and it just stuck. He berates Alex up and down, but he has a sense of style about it, like his words are deliberately chosen to be piercing, to hit Alex's weak spots and bring him down.

"It's a good thing you can make drinks and suck cock," Greg says calmly, almost offhandedly. "You're not really good for much else, are you? You go to great lengths to prove to everyone your greatest value is as a prop." He laughs. "Maybe I'll make you a coatrack next. Not that you're tall enough."

Alex really does sleep in a dog bed; Rhod's seen it. It sits at the end of Greg's bed; it's only by dint of the fact that Greg is a massive man who had to get a specially-made bed that he has enough room to do it. Otherwise, Rhod suspects he'd be on the floor. At this point, he's not sure Alex would even mind.

It's so much worse than it was on the show, though Rhod does appreciate that Greg treats him one-to-one, same old Greg and Rhod. Greg respects him, in a way he decidedly does not respect Alex, at least when it's like this.

Then, presumably, Alex leaves, and the next time Rhod sees him and Greg, they are as friendly as always, like nothing has happened.

The thing is that Greg is not a mean person. He's sarcastic and a little bitchy on occasion, but not even as much as Rhod is. He is a mountain of a man, but Rhod has never found him scary, or else they wouldn't have given each other so much shit over the years. Rhod wouldn't have been friends with The Taskmaster for nearly this long; Greg taught kids, for fuck's sake.

But Greg has this thing inside him, this whole other side that Rhod didn't know was there; he doesn't know how long _Greg_ has known it's there. Alex probably clocked him on day one, but Alex made a whole show about his kinks, so Alex doesn't count. Greg can just put it on and take it back off again, like he scratches the itch and then puts it back in the closet. It makes Rhod feel like-

Rhod doesn't know how it makes him feel, because honestly, he's still dealing with what he did on _Taskmaster_. He saw ugly parts of himself on that show; he genuinely tortured Alex, and he may have almost murdered him with a javelin, though he maintains it probably would have been fine. He took things a step too far, more than once, and he never knew that he would do that so readily.

He is probably also taking this whole thing with Greg and Alex a step too far, but he can't examine that right now.

By this point, Rhod has shown up more than a few times when Alex is over at Greg's, with or without other people there. It's getting to just be a thing that happens. Greg always makes him feel more than welcome; he's happy to make Alex pop up to get him something, make a joke to keep Rhod at ease. Rhod is feeling increasingly not at ease, and it is weighing on him. He doesn't want to give this up, even though he's really not doing anything but being adjacent to some kinky fucks having a good time. He just likes it, for reasons he can't articulate, but he's becoming increasingly not okay with liking it.

Alex is over for the whole weekend, and Greg is up to his old tricks. He's only just finished berating Alex for moving a chair two centimeters to the left when he should have moved it two centimeters to the right.

"Clever little Alex can't even do what he's told," Greg is saying, bending down quite close to Alex's face. Alex is a tall man, taller than Rhod, but Greg dwarfs him. "I don't think you're stupid, boy. I think you don't pay enough attention." He grabs Alex by the hair. "You need to work on that, or you're going to regret it."

"Yes, Taskmaster," Alex says breathily.

Greg pushes him towards the wall, making him stumble; he can move Alex like he weighs nothing. "Stay there until I need you."

Alex stands next to the wall, putting his palms on it and waiting patiently for word. Rhod is trying not to be visibly uncomfortable, and by "visibly uncomfortable" he means "hard as a rock in front of his friend."

Greg gives Rhod a concerned look; he stands up, stalking over to where Alex is waiting and grabbing him by the bicep. 

"Get out of here, slut," Greg says, dragging Alex to the door and shoving him bodily through it before he shuts it behind him.

"Hey," Greg says, dropping back into his chair, and it gives Rhod whiplash, how he can be two people at one time, spin around instantly from The Taskmaster to good ol' Greg. "Do we need to talk?"

"I-" Rhod says. "Honestly, I don't know."

"If it makes you feel weird, you don't have to come over," Greg offers. "I'm not going to force you to do anything."

"It does make me feel weird," Rhod says, because he can't hide it anymore. "Just not the kind of weird you're thinking."

Greg's face breaks out into a grin. "Well, look at you," he says, smacking Rhod lightly in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, yeah," Rhod says, hoping he looks less freaked out than he is.

"Do you want a go?" Greg says. "I'll pass him off to you for an evening."

"Really?" Rhod says in shock.

"Sure," Greg says, like he's offering Rhod a chance to drive his new car. "He's great fun. Have a taste."

"I have to ask my wife," Rhod says, though he's already told her about Alex and Greg's whole thing, and for the life of him, he's not sure whether he wants her to tell him no so this doesn't happen.

She doesn't say no, so now this is happening.

It happens at Greg's house, because he's got a whole room that he can clear out and use for this stuff; Rhod has personally been to a dinner party in it, but they can just keep that between them. Greg has told him some things about what he's not allowed to do, and Rhod nodded a lot and tried not to panic.

But there's no going back now; Alex is at Greg's feet, and they're at the door, and Rhod is apparently doing this.

"You," Greg says, grabbing Alex by the collar and pulling him up. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, sir," Alex says. He teeters on this line of looking terrified and looking blissed out, and Rhod finds it fascinating.

"And if I say I want to lend you out?" Greg says.

Alex swallows. "I go where you tell me, sir."

"Right answer," Greg says, letting him go and grabbing his ass. He shoves Alex at Rhod. "He's all yours."

"Right," Rhod says, and he grabs Alex by the arm. The first thing he realizes is that Alex is solid. He's been letting Greg move him around, but he's not thin. Rhod has to drag him in so he can shut the door. There's a chair in the middle of the room, and Rhod drags him all the way to that, pushing him down into it.

He ties Alex up straight off, because it seems like the thing. He certainly liked it when he did it previously; having Alex like that was satisfying. Greg's left him a gag, too, a proper one that's not going to end up choking him.

Rhod walks around to face Alex and realizes he has _no_ idea what he's doing.

He may have made some minor misrepresentations to Greg considering his level of experience, because he thought he was mostly telling the truth. You don't really need anything to humiliate someone; you just do it. He's already tied up and humiliated Alex before. Surely he should know what to do.

He doesn't, so he slaps Alex across the face. It feels so fucking good that he does it again, catching him on the backhand. He's done it so hard there's a pink mark, and something about that is endlessly satisfying. Suddenly Rhod doesn't feel like humiliating him at all; it's not because he's done fucking with him, it's just not what he wants.

Alex's nipples are hard in the slight chill of the room, and Rhod grabs both of them, squeezing as hard as he can and tugging them upwards. Alex tries to follow and can't; it makes Rhod laugh for whatever reason. This is okay. He can do this. Maybe it's not how he represented himself, but they can have a good time.

The ropes make it a little difficult, but he digs in with a fingernail on Alex's abdomen, dragging it from one side to the other above the top of his pants; he's a hairy one, but Rhod can still see the line of it, the way it stands out red on his skin.

He grabs Alex by the jaw, digging in with his nails, fingers clawed, to see Alex's response. He's just sitting there, being completely impassive, and in one moment it tips over from funny into _something else_.

Alex isn't just being a prick; Alex is mocking him. Rhod should probably want to storm out, but that's not what he wants to do at all. He wants to tear Alex into pieces. He wants to sink his teeth into Alex's neck and suck bruises all over him. He wants to punch Alex in the fucking face, knock him down a couple of pegs, show him who's boss. He wants Alex to know that _he_ did it, think all the time about how cruel Rhod was, how truly lesser he is than Rhod, how he deserves that kind of treatment.

Rhod is achingly hard in his jeans. Every time he thinks about doing something worse to Alex, it gets better; it's good he doesn't have a pocket knife, because he thinks it would be amazing to see just a little bit of blood.

Reality rushes back in suddenly, so hard that Rhod is left reeling. He can't do any of that; Alex is a perfectly nice guy, not an object, not something for Rhod to rip up like tissue paper. Rhod is going to lose control at any second, forget himself again, do something unforgivable.

So he just walks out. He walks out of the room, out of the house, out to his car; he goes back to his own flat, takes a long, cold shower, and lays in bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling.

He's very nearly fallen asleep when his phone rings. It's the person he least wants to talk to, but the person he most needs to not ignore.

"What did you do?" Greg says carefully. 

Rhod winces. "So you found out about that."

"I didn't call you to yell," Greg says. "I just want your side of the story."

"Not much to tell, is it?" Rhod says cagily.

"Oh, I'd disagree," Greg says, sounding unamused for the first time. "You didn't tell me you were a sadist. I would have prepared for it."

Rhod has suddenly had enough. "Well I didn't fucking know, now did I?"

There's a long pause from the other end of the line.

"What?" Greg says.

"I didn't know I was like that," Rhod says. "So you can't blame me if everything went tits up."

"We need to have a drink," Greg says wearily.

Rhod scrubs his face with one hand. "I'll be over tonight, yeah?"

"See you then," Greg says.

It's really only a few hours later that Rhod turns up with cans of beer and his tail between his legs; Alex is not there, and Rhod is glad of that. Greg doesn't say anything at first, just claps him on the back and leads him to the sofa, putting a beer into his hand and letting him take a few fortifying pulls from it.

"What happened, exactly?" Greg says, and he's just normal Greg, Rhod's mate Greg, big-hearted and generally big Greg, not the Taskmaster. Rhod finds that more comforting than he can say.

"I wanted the wrong thing," Rhod says, trying to piece it together. "It wasn't-" He stops, frustrated. "You know what you want. You know how to use your words. I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted to use my fists."

"Well, you can't punch Alex," Greg says. "That's assault and battery in this country, whether or not it's consensual."

"I never would," Rhod swears. "You've got to believe that I never would."

"No, _you've_ got to believe that you never would," Greg says.

Rhod doesn't know what to say to that, too many things tripping over one another in the rush in his head. His head is swimming, roiling like it's going to burst out and cover the walls.

"You could put this all back in the box if you wanted," Greg tells him gently. "You could close the door and walk away, and in two weeks you won't even think about it."

Rhod sizes him up. "You're lying."

"Yeah," Greg says, sitting back and sipping his beer. "Trying to make you feel better. Sorry, mate, you're in this now."

"I did not want to know this about myself," Rhod says. "I don't want to be this way. I don't- I don't want to want to hurt people."

Greg rubs his temple. "Congratulations, you are every new sadist."

"Oh," Rhod says, and he can't decide if he's relieved or disappointed. "So this is-"

"Absolutely the bog-standard conversation that everyone has, yeah," Greg says.

"Huh," Rhod says. "And they're, y'know, fine?"

"The fine ones are fine," Greg says. "There are some awful sadists, but there are some awful vanilla people. It's not a matter of taste, it's a matter of class."

"So you want me to be a classy sadist," Rhod says.

"What I want isn't the issue," Greg says. "But I do only run with classy sadists."

"Would-" Rhod starts, then stalls out. "If I asked, would you give me a chance to make it right? Alex is a good guy. I want to do right by him."

"We'll do it like this," Greg says. "I'll come with you, and we'll run the scene together. I'll direct you and you can direct Alex."

"I don't have the first clue what I'm doing," Rhod says.

"I know that now," Greg says. "We'll talk through it. I'll get you far enough to apologize to Alex, and then we'll go from there."

"Is that okay?" Rhod asks. "I just really don't want to fuck this up. I don't even really know what most of it means."

"You can go down this road, and I can help you get your feet under you," Greg says. "You can figure out what it means as you go." He gives Rhod an unamused look. "But you can't leave Alex tied to a chair."

"Christ, I'm so sorry," Rhod says, putting his elbows on his thighs and hanging his head. "I'm a fucking mess."

"You're not," Greg says. He opens a can of beer and holds it out to Rhod. "Have another one and don't worry about it so much."

\--

Rhod is waiting this time; Greg gave him a moment alone to collect himself, gather his thoughts, maybe stop himself from freaking out. He's not promising anything regarding that last part, but he'll make an attempt.

The door swings open, and Greg is literally carrying Alex, thrown over his shoulder. Rhod doesn't know whether he should laugh, but he does it. The way Greg grins slyly tells him that that was the intention all along. Greg dumps Alex like a sack of potatoes, and Alex ends up on the floor on all fours.

Greg grabs him by the arm and yanks him to his feet. He slaps Alex across the face, but like you do in stage fighting; he does land the blow, hard, but his other hand is opposite, stopping Alex's neck from twisting. "Strip," he says, not that Alex is wearing much, but Alex's pants hit the floor immediately. "Get up there. On your belly."

"There" is a kind of table; with Alex on it, there's room on both sides of his body, but it has extensions for his limbs, not quite spread-eagle, rings at the end to hook into. It's definitely purpose-built, with reinforced legs and braces. He wouldn't say it exactly looks comfortable, but Alex gets situated anyway, stretched out and ready. Rhod just knows he'd stay like that if he was told, keep himself in position as long as Greg said so. He can just see, the way that he's spread out, the plug that's inside him; that's something to file away, in case it becomes relevant. Greg's offered, but Rhod's just going to see how it goes.

Greg does the actual tying, because Rhod is apparently not any good at it. This isn't a surprise; he was going for restriction, not style. Greg does it in a few, efficient movements, like someone taught him, and Rhod wonders if he could pass that on. He does really like the tied up part, but it seems like the wrong kind of hurting somebody, the kind that's not deliberate. 

Greg finishes up, and he leaves one of his big hands on Alex's head; Rhod can see the barely perceptible nod that Alex gives him. It doesn't change the mood, but it does feel private, like Rhod wasn't really supposed to see.

"I gave you the _privilege_ of entertaining my close personal friend, and this is what you did?" Greg hisses, bending down close to Alex's ear. "Just sat there like a cold fish, pretending you weren't getting anywhere just to rile him up. No wonder he left you alone. He should have."

"Sorry, sir," Alex says meekly.

"Oh, you're certainly going to be," Greg says. "I'm going to let him do anything he can think of to you, and you're going to take it like the little bitch you are."

"Yes, Taskmaster," Alex says.

Greg pushes back from him, like he'd be shoving Alex away if Alex weren't tied down. "Show that cunt you mean business," he tells Rhod.

Rhod takes a breath to steady himself. He knows that he wants this, but if he does it, there's really no turning back, no way to pretend it's anything else. This is it; he's never going to be able to treat this like a lark, a weird evening he had.

He doesn't want to. Alex is spread out in front of him, and all he can think about is the need to bite and claw, to see Alex hurt just because Rhod wants him to hurt. Maybe he could wrest control back, but that's slipping, falling away into an electric, entrancing feeling that bubbles in his blood.

Rhod grabs Alex's hair, pulling so hard that he has to arch up, the position pulling Alex's wrists against the ropes. He brings his other hand down on Alex's ass, hard enough that it hurts his hand.

"That's a bit more like it," Greg says approvingly. "Choose your weapon."

Greg has provided him with implements, things to scratch or slap with, suggestions and guidelines at once. Rhod eyes them, but he just, it isn't- what struck him the first time, why it felt so _visceral_ , was that he wanted to do it with his own two hands. He has this sinking suspicion that he'll build up, need more, but right now he just wants to tear into Alex barehanded.

He looks imploringly over at Greg, and Greg just grins. "You like it au naturel, huh," he says. "Go on, do it."

Rhod looks at the table consideringly. "Will this take my weight?" he asks.

Greg shrugs. "Takes mine."

"So me and a motorcycle," Rhod says, and Greg just rolls his eyes.

Greg gives him a hand up, and he straddles Alex's thighs. There's just so much _potential_ , a voice in the back of his head screaming that he needs to mark every inch of skin that he can, not but because Alex is his but because Alex is nothing.

He bites down hard onto the meat of Alex's shoulder, fangs bared like a vampire. He wants to bite until he tastes copper, but he just barely holds himself back; he sucks hard instead, until Alex makes a noise of genuine pain.

Everything in Rhod just eases, all at once. He didn't know how much he needed that reaction; it isn't a good reaction, precisely the opposite, but it's so satisfying that he doesn't have words for it. He's still keyed up, wants to do this a dozen more times, but it inexplicably feels, now, like it's okay.

Rhod pulls away, just long enough to lull Alex into a false sense of security before biting down on his other shoulder. He runs his hand up Alex's back and digs his finger into the mark he made just moments ago, so Alex can't go forgetting about it.

He lifts his face, and Alex is making noises; they're not the little contented sighs he makes sometimes when he thinks no one can hear. He just sounds uncomfortable, not turned on at all by what Rhod is doing.

"You don't like it, huh?" Rhod says, because the idea is thrilling, that Alex is being made to do this and not getting anything from it, just because Rhod wanted him to.

"Be honest, boy," Greg snaps, when Alex doesn't answer.

"No, sir," Alex grits out.

Greg laughs, full-throated and cruel. "Oh, he hates it when I use my teeth on him. He thought he was ready for it, but he'd only ever gotten love bites before."

"That's a shame," Rhod says, and he bites down again, harder this time. He keeps on doing it; there's enough of Alex that he can find a lot of places to bite, a mouthful of flesh to be had. He thought about making it symmetrical, making it precise, but in the moment it's like everything he does, chaotic and messy, changing on a whim.

Rhod sits back, observing his work, and what he sees is intoxicating. Alex's back is mottled with livid red marks, some of them shading into purple. He'll hurt and keep hurting, and the idea that Alex won't be able to forget makes Rhod grind against his ass for a moment without even thinking about it.

But he's not satisfied.

He's had tooth, but he hasn't even started on claw. He didn't clip his nails before this; he keeps them blunt and close cut, doesn't really think about it, but that's not what he wanted. He wanted to be able to dig in, to do more damage. He feels like some kind of animal, a predator, and it is exhilarating.

He puts his fingers on Alex's shoulders, rolling them forwards so that his fingernails dig in. He waits, waits another moment, waits, then drags his nails down Alex's back as hard as he can. Alex cries out, thrashing, so Rhod does it again, watching as the skin blanches and then fills with red, darker where it crosses over the bite marks.

"Fuck," Rhod breathes. "Oh fuck."

"Having fun up there?" Greg says, amused.

"Fuck," Rhod says again. He puts his nails into Alex's shoulder blade, but just to keep him guessing he rakes it across his back, following it up on the other side, like Alex really is an animal that he's tearing into.

He slaps Alex over the marks, careful to stay in the right place but hard enough to hurt badly. Alex has his head down and is making whimpers of pain, so Rhod keeps going.

"Beg me," he says, digging his nails into Alex's ass. "Beg me to stop."

"Please," Alex says.

"Well that was piss-poor," Greg says, and Alex cries out as Rhod rakes him with his nails again.

"Please stop," Alex says, like he's barely choking out the words. "Please stop, I can't take it, please-"

"Fine, fine," Rhod says, then he slaps Alex's back again, making Alex all but howl.

Rhod's so hard he could cut glass, and he's not quite sure what to do about it. He's seriously considering just pulling out his cock and wanking onto Alex's back, watching his come splash over the marks he's made. It sounds nice, visually speaking, but just not quite enough in terms of stimulation.

"You can fuck him if you like," Greg says, and that sounds so much better.

Greg gives him a hand off the table, and Rhod is disappointed to see him start releasing Alex; he's got the ropes tied off to clips, so he undoes them without untying Alex's wrists and ankles. He slaps Alex on the flank. "Flip."

Alex doesn't do it quickly enough for Greg's liking, so Greg does it for him, easily manhandling him back into position and clipping him to the table again before stepping away. Rhod gets between Alex's spread legs, ready for it. He's unzipped his jeans and pushed them down far enough to get to business when he gets a better look at Alex. "He's not hard," Rhod says, feeling deeply weird about it for reasons he can't entirely articulate.

Greg raises an eyebrow. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Rhod just can't go there, and he doesn't know if he'd ever be able to. He steps out of the way. "I can't, not if-"

Greg goes in for the assist, grabbing Alex's cock so hard that Alex hisses. "You miserable thing," he says, tossing him off so roughly that it has to be painful. "I want your pitiful little cock stiff, or you will not like what happens to it."

Alex actually has a proportional dick, but the point is that it's hard now, his hips working just so as Greg handles him. He stops, slapping Alex's thigh. "Better," he says. He indicates Alex with a sweep of his hand. "Now please, with my compliments."

Alex is still breathing heavily, hips working like he hasn't gotten adjusted to the fact that the stimulation is gone. He hadn't seemed into it, but apparently it was just simmering under the surface, waiting for permission; it makes Rhod feel infinitely better. Before he can think about it any further, he pulls the plug out and sets it aside, spreading more lube onto his cock before lining up at Alex's entrance.

"Don't hold back," Greg says. "I want to see you fuck him as hard as you can. That's exactly what he deserves."

Rhod drives his hips forward, and suddenly he's all the way inside, Alex crying out underneath him. "Sorry, did that hurt?" he says, pretending to be surprised.

Greg laughs. " _Now_ you're a sadist."

Alex is hot and tight around him, and he's making noises like it does hurt, like Rhod is being too rough. "Stop pretending," Rhod says, slapping his thighs. "I know you get it worse."

"Why would you suggest that I treat my boy as anything but a blushing rose?" Greg says.

"You lay him down in a feather bed, is it?" Rhod says, grabbing Alex's hips tight; he hopes there are bruises, that they hurt so much that it's days before Alex can forget this.

"A dog bed, but it's the same thing," Greg says. He walks around opposite Rhod, at Alex's head. He runs a thumb over Alex's cheekbone. "Crying like a little bitch." He licks the tears off his thumb, and Rhod swears he can feel it in his dick. "What do you think, Rhod? Do you want to hear him cry, or should I plug him up?"

"Fuck his throat," Rhod says; he's shocked by the snarl of his own voice, but he doesn't stop. "Make him choke on it. That'll give him something to cry about."

Rhod is convinced he's gone too far, then Greg smiles wickedly, undoing his belt. "Absolutely."

Greg pulls his cock out, and wow, he really is going to choke Alex. "Where've you been keeping that thing?" Rhod says, before he can think better of it.

"You didn't want to see it," Greg says.

"I didn't want to fuck, but that's just impressive for its own sake," Rhod says.

Greg rolls his eyes. "If you don't mind, I'm going to use it now."

"No, by all means," Rhod says.

Greg slaps Alex sharply in the face. "Open up." Alex immediately opens his mouth, tipping his head back as far as it will go. "Good boy. Now hold still."

Greg shoves into Alex's mouth, paying no attention to the way he gags, and Christ it's hot. Rhod didn't know he'd end up thinking Greg was hot at all, but he's too turned on to care. Instead he digs his nails into Alex's chest, drawing lines on it as he keeps fucking, Alex's ankles pulling against the ropes with how much Rhod is pushing in on every stroke.

Rhod's orgasm comes up on him fast and is impossible to stop. He can't do anything but keep thrusting into Alex as hard as he can, and then he's losing it, his nails digging into Alex's sides. He keeps going, a few more arrhythmic thrusts before it's all over, before he empties himself inside Alex. He can't do anything but put his hands on the table and stay there, hunched over Alex's body, not even sure if he's in his own.

He doesn't know what happens; he hears some noises, and then Greg is putting his hands on his shoulders, leading him away from the table and to Greg's bed. Then Greg is there, and Alex, and Greg must have come because he's not hard anymore, but Rhod couldn't pay attention to it at the time.

"Here you go," Greg says, handing Rhod a bottle of water and, improbably, a chocolate chip cookie. Rhod drinks one and eats the other, then he lays down against Greg's side. Rhod's not going to pretend like he and Greg have never had a cuddle. Greg is, and this cannot be overstated, enormous, and he can cuddle three at a time, a drunken and ultimately harmless pastime that he does sometimes at parties. 

"Jesus Christ," Rhod slurs.

"You did it," Greg says, squeezing him around the shoulders. "You did a whole scene and didn't lose control once. All he needs is a shower and a lie down and he's fine. Well done, you."

Rhod feels like maybe he should feel weird about being praised by Greg, but actually he finds it quite comforting. If Greg calls him a good boy he's leaving, but it's nice to hear his hard work paid off.

"Fuck," Rhod says. "I need a minute." He waves vaguely at Alex. "Should I, you know, apologize?"

"He actually does hate it," Greg says. He nudges Alex. "Tell him, pet."

"That was awful," Alex says genuinely.

"Then I'm sorry," Rhod says.

"You're not sorry," Greg says.

"Nah, I'm really not," Rhod says.

"We'll set you up with a masochist sometime, see how you get on," Greg says. "You'll like it more than you think."

"Like you and Alex?" Rhod says, though that's a really big question; he doesn't know if he could have someone like Greg has Alex, emotionally, physically, even just logistically.

"Him?" Greg says. "He lives for this shit. If I didn't force him, he'd find a way to roll over anyway."

"That's true, sir," Alex says.

"For you, maybe some play dates or a night at a club now and again," Greg says to Rhod. "And you're welcome to play with this one any time, because he'll take it whether he likes it or not, or he'll come to regret it."

"Thanks," Rhod says, and he hopes it expresses everything.

"For now, have a rest," Greg says, pulling Rhod against him.

"You do make a good pillow," Rhod says.

"I have my benefits," Greg says, and Rhod laughs.

"Sometimes," Rhod says, and he lets himself sink into the bed and into the feeling of it all.

He could get very used to it, but maybe that's okay.


End file.
